The Violist
by L'alto
Summary: Despite what Ron and Hermione said, Harry just knew Malfoy was up to no good. He just had to find out what Malfoy was up to...


_This story is dedicated to my beloved instruments: one, the star of the orchestra, and the other, often forgotten and overlooked, but both beautiful in their own ways. _

_._

_**The Violist**_

"He's up to something. I just know it."

Ron groaned and smacked his head against the table, while Hermione turned to glare at him.

"For the last time, Harry, Malfoy is not up to something!" She burst out.

"Yeah, mate, the war's over, what could he possibly be up to now?" Ron added.

Harry shook his head, "I don't know! He can't seem to concentrate in class, and he's always sleeping somewhere during breaks, and he...he comes to breakfast late! He used to come at precisely 7, now he comes in at 7.10..."

"How do you even know what time Malfoy comes to breakfast?" Ron asked, giving him a weird look.

Hermione sighed and rubbed at her temples. "Look, Harry, Voldemort's dead. Everyone's moved on, everyone except you. Malfoy...he's changed, Harry. He truly has. He's nicer to others now, civil even, and he's trying hard to get good grades in his NEWTS so that he will be able to get a job once he graduates from Hogwarts. Don't make things harder for him, alright?"

"Yeah, mate, he won't try anything now that he's on probation. At least he's stopped calling Hermione a Mudblood or insulting me. He even says hi!" Ron chimed in.

Harry looked towards the doors of the Great Hall, where Malfoy had, once again, come in ten minutes late for breakfast. His hair was messy, sticking up in tufts like Harry's own hair tended to do, and his tie hung undone on his neck. He was a far cry from the usual immaculate Malfoy.

"He's up to something. I know it." He muttered darkly.

Beside him, Ron groaned again and Hermione sighed.

**OoOoO**

Harry couldn't sleep.

He'd been tossing and turning for about an hour or so now, haunted by memories of the war. He couldn't understand how everyone else seemed to be able to forget the war so easily: every single time he closed his eyes, he saw the faces of everyone he had lost, as well as the dead bodies and blood that covered the grounds of Hogwarts.

He hadn't been able to sleep properly since the war had ended almost two months ago.

Sighing, he got out of bed, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out from under the bed. He wasn't going to get any sleep anyway: why not go for a walk?

Quietly, he slipped past his dorm mates, slumbering peacefully in their beds, and crept down the stairs of the common room, careful not to wake anybody. Even the Fat Lady was fast asleep: she only mumbled incoherently and turned over when Harry pushed her portrait aside and clambered out of the hole.

Harry had always loved wandering around Hogwarts at night. There was something magical about a dark, quiet Hogwarts. In the day, the sunlight filtering through the windows illuminated the passageways and shone onto the faces of the students walking to classes, laughing and chatting; at night, the halls were silent and still, the darkness softly blanketing any students wandering around the school, and one could almost hear Hogwarts breathing together with its slumbering inhabitants.

He smiled to himself as he walked. It had been a long time since he had last done this. With the threat of Voldemort hanging over his head, wandering the halls had lost some of its appeal. Knowing that walking around could mean your death was not a very enticing aspect. But now...now that he didn't need to worry about the Dark Lord any longer, he was free to continue his childhood from where he had left off. Now, the only thing he needed to worry about when he wandered the halls was Filch and Mrs Norris.

Just as he rounded the corner, he heard a loud meow, and he froze. Though he had faced a Dark Lord, the prospect of getting caught by Filch and Mrs Norris was still a terrifying one, and quickly, he turned another corner and ducked into a broom closet nearby. As he closed the door, though, he saw a flash of platinum blonde hair going up the stairs, and he started. Malfoy?

**OoOoO**

The next night, as soon as everyone else had fallen asleep, Harry drew his bed curtains and hid under his blanket, illuminating the map with a _Lumos_. With a whispered "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good", the map came to life, and he began to look for Malfoy's name.

He quickly located the dot labelled "Draco Malfoy" leaving the Slytherin common room, and as he watched, the dot started moving towards the Great Hall. It paused just outside the hall for a moment, before suddenly disappearing without a trace.

Harry blinked. That couldn't be right! Malfoy was nowhere near the Room of Requirement, he hadn't left the school by the front gate, and he hadn't left the school through the secret passageways: the map would have shown that. Unless he had somehow managed to Apparate from Hogwarts, which was simply impossible, there was no way he could have disappeared so suddenly like that.

He scanned the map a few more times, desperately trying to find Malfoy's name, but gave up after half an hour of fruitless searching.

Malfoy was up to something, he just knew it, and tomorrow, he was going to find out what it was.

**OoOoO**

"Not again, seriously..." Ron groaned, before reaching over to punch Harry lightly on the shoulder. "Mate, stop staring at Malfoy!"

Harry tore his eyes away from the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was sitting, listlessly picking at his food, his head drooping. He looked like he was about to fall asleep at any moment, and if his head drooped any lower it would fall into his cereal and...

"Harry!"

Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione fully. "Malfoy's-"

"Not up to anything. How many times must we tell you, Harry?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

"Mate, this is like sixth year all over again, you know. You remember how that turned out, right?" Ron stated carefully.

"But I was right in sixth year! I'm sure I'm right now, too. The night before, I thought I saw him taking a walk, and yesterday, when I was stalking him on the map, his name suddenly disappeared for no reason from the Great Hall...Hermione, you can't Apparate from Hogwarts, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry, you can Apparate from the Hogwarts, and Voldemort's back, and McGonagall is the secret Minister for Magic, and Malfoy is the mastermind of an evil scheme to take over the world!" Hermione answered sarcastically.

"But he really is up to something! I can tell!" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry...I don't think you've really moved on from the war yet. You're starting to imagine schemes that don't exist, starting to see things that aren't there, because you just can't accept the fact that the war is over and that everyone else had moved on. You're scaring us, Harry. Please, try to put the war behind you and live a normal life?" Hermione pleaded.

Harry looked at Hermione's slightly tearful eyes, and at Ron's sad face, and he nodded, before continuing to eat his breakfast, trying desperately not to stare at Malfoy.

He was still convinced Malfoy was up to something, though, and he was going to find out what it was.

**OoOoO**

Harry lay in bed, waiting impatiently for everyone else to fall asleep, and as soon as he heard the snores coming from the beds around him, he was off. In the safety of the corridor, he checked the Marauder's Map, and soon located Malfoy's dot in the Slytherin common room. Quickly, he ran towards the dungeons, and nearly ran straight into Malfoy as he climbed the steps from the dungeons towards the Hall.

Malfoy looked a fright. From this distance, Harry could see the bags under his eyes, and his hair stuck up worse than Harry's. Yet there was a small smile curving his lips, and his eyes seemed to sparkle with joy. He carried an oblong black case, which was slung over his left shoulder, and in his right hand he carried a thick stack of parchment. As he walked, he looked around, as if afraid anyone would follow him, and yet he didn't look as afraid as he would have if he had been doing something truly wrong. Harry should know: he had been following Malfoy around the whole of sixth year, and had grown very familiar with the pinched, nervous look Malfoy had worn when sneaking around the school. In fact, Malfoy looked almost...relaxed, as if sneaking around the school with a suspicious looking black case was a normal, everyday thing to do.

Curiosity piqued, Harry followed behind Malfoy, careful to keep his footsteps quiet and to remain at least ten steps behind him. He followed Malfoy through the staircases until they reached the Great Hall, and he entered the Great Hall behind Malfoy, pausing at the Slytherin table. Malfoy, however, walked straight past the Slytherin table, heading straight for the Gryffindor table, and Harry had to run to catch up with him.

However, a very odd thing happened when Malfoy walked in the space between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables: he vanished. Harry blinked in surprise, before rushing towards the place where Malfoy had disappeared.

Nothing. Malfoy had not touched anything, other than the black case, so it couldn't have been a Portkey, and he had not turned on the spot like wizards did when they Apparated either, so that was out too. He had simply...vanished. There had been nothing, no puff of smoke or ripple in the air or loud crack when he had disappeared. He had simply vanished without a trace.

Harry groaned in frustration, sitting down on the bench and putting his head in his hands. Then, an idea occurred to him. What if it had been an invisible Vanishing Cabinet?

For the next ten minutes, Harry tried going back and forth in the space between the two tables. He walked, he strode, he marched, he ran, and he even tried jumping at the spot where Malfoy had disappeared, but nothing happened. He remained exactly where he was, alone in the Great Hall, and Malfoy remained gone.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed heavily, turning to walk out of the Great Hall. There was nothing left to be done: he just had to come back the next day and try to find out exactly how Malfoy had disappeared.

**OoOoO**

For the next two months, that was exactly what Harry did. Every night, after his dorm mates had fallen asleep, he would sneak out of Gryffindor Tower and follow Malfoy to the Great Hall, and every night Malfoy would disappear mysteriously, leaving Harry to wonder just how he had managed to vanish.

After two month of stalking, Harry was getting frustrated. He had thought of asking Hermione about Malfoy's nightly disappearances, but remembered that he was supposed to have stopped stalking Malfoy and thus decided not to talk to her about it.

Two months of stalking had done some good, though. While Malfoy had looked happy in the beginning, smiling to himself and walking with a spring in his step, he started to look less and less happy as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. In fact, Harry had recently noticed that Malfoy looked miserable when he went about his nightly activities now. It was not the pinched look he had worn in sixth year: this was different, a weary, sad look that made Malfoy look years older than he really was.

Harry had taken to staring at Malfoy discreetly during the day, too, and had started to realise that Malfoy looked as tired and weary during the day as he did during his nightly excursions. Really, it was a wonder no one else had noticed it yet. The bags under his eyes were becoming increasingly obvious, as were his bloodshot eyes, and the few times Harry sat behind him in Potions, he noticed that Malfoy's fingers were bleeding and blistered.

His behavior, too, had changed. He had taken to taking short naps throughout the day in between lessons, and during lunch, he was almost always absent, possibly sleeping in the dorms. Though he managed to somehow attend every single lesson, he was always nodding off during lessons, or staring blankly at the board. The few times Harry had heard his conversations with his friends, he sounded distant and tired, and Harry could tell his heart wasn't really in the conversation.

Harry was confused. If Malfoy was so tired, to the point that he couldn't focus on anything around him, why did he still insist on going on his nightly excursions? The time he used to do whatever he did after he disappeared could have been used for him to catch up on his sleep: he looked like he desperately needed it. So why did he still disappear each night? It was almost...almost as if he was being forced to do whatever he did every night.

Harry was surprised to realise that sometime over the past two months, he had started to become almost concerned about Malfoy. He was no longer worried that Malfoy was up to something: surely someone who looked so miserable and tired doing something couldn't be doing it out of his own free will? And the Dark Lord was gone, so there wasn't anyone left who could force Malfoy to commit evil acts against his own will. No, the reason why Harry followed Malfoy now was because of his own curiosity, and because he was almost...worried about Malfoy. Worried about how little sleep Malfoy was getting, and how he looked like he might collapse at any moment.

Maybe Hermione was wrong. Maybe the only way Harry could move on and forget about the war was by stalking Malfoy, something that had become familiar to him back in sixth year. Maybe, by obsessing over Malfoy, he would finally be able to move on from the horrors of the war.

As he walked, caught up in his own musings, he bumped into someone, and looked up to see a scowling Malfoy. Only...his scowl seemed half-hearted, like he didn't really mean it, and his scowl just served to emphasise the bags below his eyes.

"Malfoy, are you okay?" The words were out before Harry could stop them, and Malfoy's scowl deepened further, though still not as fierce as the ones he used to give Harry.

"Shove off, Potter." Malfoy bit out, but even that sounded weary and tired. Before Harry could ask anymore, however, Malfoy walked away, leaving Harry to stare at his retreating, slouching figure and wonder just what was wrong with Malfoy.

**OoOoO**

That night, the night Harry had already decided would be the last night he followed Malfoy, he finally had a breakthrough.

As usual, he had sneaked out of the common room after everyone was asleep, and had run all the way to the dungeons before following Malfoy to the Great Hall. After two months, Harry no longer expected anything to happen, and as he trailed behind Malfoy, he could feel his eyes drooping. He knew he probably looked as tired as Malfoy did at the moment. Malfoy was practically sleeping as he walked, his swollen eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt not to close, and his blistered fingers still held on to the black case he had brought with him since the first day Harry had started to follow him.

As they entered the Great Hall, with Harry ten steps behind Malfoy as usual, Harry yawned widely and rubbed at his eyes again, already getting ready to see Malfoy vanish mysteriously again so that he could go back to bed and sleep.

Just then, two things happened at once: Malfoy paused suddenly, and Harry, still rubbing at his closed eyes, continued to walk forwards, unaware that he was now walking directly behind Malfoy as they passed through the space between the tables.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he stared at his surroundings in shock, before rubbing at his eyes a few times and then staring some more. He was no longer at Hogwarts.

Instead, he was in a silver forest. All around him, beautiful trees completely made up of silver stretched towards the night sky high above his head, the deep green leaves on its branches rustling in the slight breeze. As the branches collided with gentle pings, they created a beautiful cacophony of tinkling noises all around him, and he couldn't help but think that the tinkling sounds mirrored the stars, twinkling as bright as diamonds, in the dark velvet of the night.

Suddenly, he heard a cheerful chirp, and, turning around, he saw a robin with breast feathers of the deepest ruby red and eyes of the brightest shade of black he had ever seen. The robin stared at him, cocking its head, before chirping once again and flying off into the forest.

As he gazed at his surroundings in wonder, he suddenly remembered the reason he had ended up in the forest in the first place, and glancing around wildly, he spotted his quarry walking just ahead of him, on a winding path made of glass he hadn't noticed before. Quickly, he ran after Malfoy, not stopping even when he heard the soft hooting of owls and the chattering of squirrels around him.

They emerged into a field of grass that shone so brightly even in the warm moonlight that Harry just knew they would be a blinding gold in the brightness of the day. He followed Malfoy through the field, hearing the swish and whispers of the grass around him, gazing up in wonder at the endless night sky stretching for miles above him.

After what seemed like only minutes, they came to a wide lake as blue as the sapphires Harry had seen on Ravenclaw's diadem, sparkling faintly in the moonlight, the ebb and flow of the tide creating a gentle lullaby that brought a smile to Harry. There was a huge golden pavilion on an island in the middle of the lake, with tiny figures moving on it, and Harry sucked in a breath upon seeing it. The pavilion was about the size of the Great Hall! At the edge of the lake, Malfoy boarded a small rowboat, placing the case in front of him, and Harry hastened to follow, sitting quietly on the opposite end of the boat.

If Malfoy felt the extra weight, he didn't show it. He just rowed across the lake with the exhaustion clear on his face, and Harry suddenly realised that Malfoy had not seemed at all awed in any way by the beauty around him. If anything, the weariness on his face showed that he was sick of the place, and Harry couldn't understand why. If he were the one who came here every night for two months, he was sure he would love the place, even after such a long time. The place was beautiful: he couldn't understand why Malfoy looked like he was being forced to come here towards the end of the two months. Why would he hate a place of such beauty, especially since he seemed to be so happy here in the beginning?

Finally, the small rowboat reached the pavilion, and Harry followed Malfoy as he got off the boat. From this distance, the little figures he had seen from the shore were much clearer, and he gasped as he realised that the little figures were part of the largest orchestra he had ever seen.

He quickly looked at Malfoy to see if he had heard the gasp, but found that Malfoy had moved closer to the centre of the pavilion, and had put down the black case. As Harry watched, Malfoy opened the case, and took out a violin. At least, Harry thought it was a violin: it seemed slightly larger than the average violin.

As he watched, Malfoy placed the instrument under his chin, and pulled the bow along the strings, before nodding to himself and walking towards the orchestra. Harry watched as he walked past rows of huge drums, shining trumpets, polished flutes, and elegant violins, before seating himself in a seat at the very front, right in front of the conductor.

Harry walked towards the orchestra to get a closer look, and gasped as he saw the musicians' faces. They were all breathtakingly beautiful, with high cheekbones, bright eyes and silky hair. The men were dressed in crisp tuxedoes as dark as twilight; the women, in long, flowing dresses as dark as the midnight sky. They sat silently at their seats, some holding cellos in between their legs, others clutching in to flutes with their hands. They all sat facing the front, and Harry followed their gaze towards the conductor, and saw that he was the most beautiful of all. He was a tall, elegant man, with hair as black as a raven's wing and piercing blue eyes that swept over the orchestra. Harry knew that even at his best, Malfoy would never be able to compare to these perfect people, and with Malfoy looking the way he did now, he stuck out like a weed among a bed of roses.

As Harry watched, the conductor raised his baton, and everyone in the orchestra raised their instruments. Suddenly, the most beautiful music in the world carried towards Harry's ears, and Harry sighed in bliss. The music flowed all around him, slow and sad and mournful, flowing around him like tears flowing down a person's face. The low vibrato of the cellos echoed through the room, and the high, piercing notes of a violin cried a melody of sorrow.

As Harry listened to the music, he felt tears start to come to his eyes. He felt all the sadness he had felt in the months after the war start to come to the surface once again. He thought of his parents, of Sirius, of Dumbledore, of Fred, of Lupin, of Tonks, of all the other people who had died fighting Voldemort, and he felt his grief being echoed by the sorrowful music played by the orchestra.

Through all this, Harry watched as Malfoy played in the front, watched as his eyes closed and his body swayed with the music, watched as his fingers ran up and down the strings, slow one minute, fast the next, watched as his mouth curled up in a small smile despite his obvious exhaustion. He watched as Malfoy played in his element, and suddenly realised that while Malfoy might never have truly belonged anywhere back in their world, in this world of music, he fit in just fine.

Harry drifted off in the corner under the invisibility cloak, his dreams filled with the beautiful music still flowing all around him. He awoke some time later, when he heard the scrape of chairs being pushed back, and opened his eyes to see the musicians starting to pack up their instruments. Had the orchestra really been playing all this while? Rubbing his eyes, he saw Malfoy nodding at something the conductor was saying, before walking towards his case, still lying in a corner. He placed the instrument carefully in the case, stroking it gently once as he did so, before lifting the case and walking towards the boat.

Harry followed close behind Malfoy back across the blue lake, across the golden field, across the glass path in the silver forest, and walked behind him as he stepped through the invisible gate near the forest back into Hogwarts. He followed Malfoy as he left the Great Hall, only leaving at the stairwell to head back to Gryffindor Tower.

He climbed up the steps of the Tower and snuck back into his dormitory, climbing under the covers and closing his eyes, a smile on his lips as he fell asleep, his dreams filled with silver forests and lilting music.

**OoOoO**

It seemed like mere seconds had passed before Ron was shaking him awake. He groaned, turning over and trying to go back to sleep, only getting up when Ron threw a pillow at him. How did Malfoy manage to survive on so little sleep each night?

He walked in silence as Ron chatted happily beside him, and didn't notice the worried look Ron exchanged with Hermione as they sat at Gryffindor table.

"Alright there, mate?" Ron asked concernedly, jerking Harry out of his stupor.

"What? Yes, I'm alright." Harry answered through a yawn.

"You haven't been following Malfoy again, have you?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yes, I have! Every night, he disappears through an invisible door which he accesses with his magical signature or something, I figured it out when I walked right behind him through it last night, and he ends up in this place with a silver forest and a lake and a golden pavilion with an orchestra in it." Harry answered earnestly. Even as the words left his mouth, he could tell they sounded delusional.

"Mate, you sure you got enough sleep last night?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed, and opened her mouth to give Harry another lecture about leaving Malfoy alone, but Harry beat her to it.

"Don't worry, I know he's not up to anything! It's just...he looked so happy, Hermione. I've never seen him smile like that before, not in Hogwarts. Though you could tell he was practically falling asleep, he was still smiling. I'd honestly never thought I'd see the day Draco Malfoy smiled properly."

"If you say so." Ron answered, turning back to his breakfast.

"It's good you've finally realised that Malfoy's changed." Hermione smiled, before turning back to her book.

The doors opened, and Malfoy walked in, looking, if possible, even more tired than he appeared the last few days. Harry frowned. The joyful Malfoy from the pavilion the night before was completely different from the exhausted Malfoy of the morning, and though Harry understood why Malfoy might want to go back to play at the pavilion day after day, he couldn't understand why Malfoy would be willing to sacrifice his sleep and his studies for it. Also, if Malfoy looked so happy while playing the night before, why did he look like he was forced to play every night, when he clearly went of his free will?

"Don't you think Malfoy looks tired lately?"

Hermione flipped another page in her book and Ron stuffed a pastry in his mouth, looking at Harry as he chewed. "Pardon?" He asked through a full mouth.

"Never mind." Harry answered, continuing to eat his breakfast as he stared at Malfoy from across the table.

**OoOoO**

Harry hadn't wanted to follow Malfoy again tonight.

He had already found out what Malfoy did every night, so he didn't actually need to continue to follow him.

But as he lay in bed, tossing and turning and unable to sleep, his thoughts kept returning to the forest and the pavilion, until finally, he decided to get up and follow Malfoy to the pavilion again.

Luckily, Malfoy had decided to leave a little later tonight, although that meant the speed with which his dot moved on the map was faster than usual, and that meant Harry had to run to reach the Great Hall just as Malfoy strode into view. He followed Malfoy through the invisible gate, and walked just behind him as they passed through the forest, through the fields, across the lake, and finally to the pavilion.

This time, Harry noted, the performers were all in bright colours. The men wore suits as white as snow, and the women wore golden ball gowns that sparkled in the moonlight. Once again, Harry observed how plain Draco looked beside the rest of the musicians; they shone in their beauty, while Draco simply...was.

As the conductor raised his baton, and the music started to play, Harry was delighted to realise that the mood of the music apparently mirrored the colour of the clothes the performers wore. Today, the music was bright, cheerful and happy, flowing around him like a creek bubbling happily in the mountains. He felt his heart soar with the joyful melody, and realised after a while that he had been subconsciously tapping his foot and nodding his head to the beat of the music since it had started.

The short happy notes from the woodwinds, combined with the jingling sounds from the bells and the triangle reminded him of happy days spent with Ron and Hermione at Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts grounds, days spent lazing around in the sun on the grass beside the lake, or throwing snowballs at each other in the snow at Hogsmeade. Listening to the music, Harry fell asleep once, again, smiling as he dreamt of happy days spent with his friends, with the music dancing all around him.

Once again, he was awoken by the scrape of chairs on the floor of the pavilion, and opened his eyes to see Malfoy walking towards him once again, instrument in hand. As he followed Malfoy once again, past the lake and the field and into Hogwarts, he looked back at the land behind him, and he resolved to come back the next night.

**OoOoO**

Harry walked through the corridors of the school during lunch, chewing on an apple he had in his left hand, and holding a sandwich in his right. While Ron and Hermione had not told him to leave them alone, he could tell quite clearly that they wanted to be alone together, and thus he had decided to spend his lunch wandering around the school.

The school was peaceful during lunch as well, a fact he had never realised until now. He closed his eyes and listened to the laughter of the students down on the grounds, mingling with the sound of birds chirping, and as such he didn't realise that there was a warm body lying on the ground until it was too late.

"Ow!" Harry hit the ground hard, and turned to glare at the person who had tripped him...who was still fast asleep, grey eyes covered by a curtain of blonde hair.

"Malfoy?" Harry whispered. Well, now he knew exactly where Malfoy spent his lunch.

Wait. If Malfoy had spent lunch sleeping, chances were that he hadn't eaten yet...before Harry knew what he was doing, his hand had reached out to Malfoy's shoulder, and he was shaking him awake.

Malfoy opened his eyes with a groan, and his unfocused silver eyes locked onto Harry. "Whazzit, Potter, you'd better have a good reason for waking me up." He grumbled moodily.

"Erm...sandwich? You haven't eaten, right?" Harry asked, placing the sandwich onto Malfoy's lap.

"Huh?" Malfoy squinted at the sandwich, before rubbing at his eyes. He suddenly seemed to wake up fully, and shot up, glaring at Harry. "Wait. Why are you being so nice to me, Potter? How do I know it's not poisoned?"

Harry rolled his eyes and took a bite of the sandwich. "See? Not poisoned." He passed the sandwich back to Malfoy, who looked at it distrustfully before nibbling at the sandwich.

"You still haven't answered my question. Why are you being so nice?" Malfoy demanded.

Harry sighed. Even when tired, Malfoy was still demanding. "I don't know, okay? I just...you look tired." Harry replied defensively.

"None of your business, Potter." Malfoy retorted, taking another bite from the sandwich. Harry decided not to grace that statement with an answer.

They lapsed into silence, and Harry started humming the tune he had heard from the orchestra the previous day. The happy Hogsmeade one. It went something like this, and he was quite sure there was a skip at this part...

"Potter. What are you humming?" Malfoy asked sharply, making Harry's head snap up to look at him.

"I heard it somewhere before...I think it was the WWN?" Harry replied with the first thing that came to his mind.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You're lying. I don't know how you know about it, Potter-"

"Know what? What aren't I supposed to know? Tell me, Malfoy. I want to help. Please." Harry said, and he saw Malfoy's grey eyes soften before he opened his mouth.

"I-" For a moment, Malfoy looked like a fish, mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. It was almost like...like he wanted to tell Harry, but was unable to.

The moment passed too soon, and the shutters slid back smoothly over Malfoy's eyes. "I said it's none of your business!" He snapped, before standing up and staking away, sandwich still in hand.

Harry stared after him in confusion. What was that all about?

**OoOoO**

"Hermione, can you help me with my Charms essay? I have no idea what we are supposed to do." Harry groaned as he sat down beside Hermione, who had her nose buried in a book as usual.

"Sure, Harry." Hermione smiled at him, before folding a page in her book and setting it on the table.

As Hermione rummage through her bag for her Charms book, Harry squinted at the cover of the book she had been reading.

"You're reading Muggle fairy tales?" Harry looked at Hermione disbelievingly.

"Well, yeah. It reminds me of my parents, before...you know. " Hermione smiled sadly, and Harry patted her back to comfort her. Though Hermione had managed to restore most of her parents' memories, it hadn't been easy, and even now, her parents couldn't recognise her at times.

Hermione seemed to shake herself, and stood up quickly, returning to her brisk demeanor in a moment. "I seem to have left my Charms essay in my room. Give me a moment." She rushed towards the stairs, but stopped before she went up and called to Harry again. "Feel free to read the book, Harry!"

Obligingly, Harry picked up the book and flipped to the page Hermione had folded. The story was one he had never heard before, The Twelve Dancing Princesses, so he shrugged and decided to give the story a go.

By the time Hermione came back down a few minutes later, Harry was grabbing the book in excitement, a wide smile plastered on his face.

"Hermione, I think I've just figured out what's happening to Malfoy!" Harry declared happily.

He waited till Hermione had sat down before telling her the similarities he had found between the story and Malfoy's late night wanderings, and by the time he was done, Hermione's mouth and opened in surprise.

"I think I've heard of such a curse before, though I didn't think it existed! The curse Malfoy is under is called the Danced to Pieces curse. Named after another title of the story you just read, The Shoes that were Danced to Pieces, it cursed the victim to do just that: go to a magical, fairytale-like place to dance every single night until the person collapses of exhaustion. Over the years, different variations of the curse were created, and I think Malfoy is under one that causes him to do the thing he loves the most, night after night." Hermione said.

Harry frowned in confusion. "But...that wouldn't be a curse at all! Shouldn't the curse cause a person to do something they don't like in a place that's extremely ugly instead?"

"Oh Harry, that's exactly the reason why the curse is so deadly! You love Quidditch, but if I asked you to play it every single night, sacrificing your sleep and your sanity in the process, you'll grow to hate it. That's what this curse is about! It causes the person to grow physically exhausted and tired, but also to go insane in the process, as they are forced to do something they love so often to the extent that it kills their love for it. The curse takes away the one pleasure they can find in life." Hermione replied earnestly.

"Can the victim speak of the curse? I saw Malfoy just now, and he looked like he wanted to tell me something, but though his mouth was moving no sound came out." Harry asked.

"That's another part of the curse. The victim isn't allowed to speak of the curse, so that no one will know and help them break the curse." Hermione replied.

"There is a way to break the curse?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I don't know...I'll have to check the library again tomorrow. I'll tell you after I find out. For now, I need to help you with your Charms essay." Hermione answered.

As Hermione talked him through the Charms essay, Harry found that his brain was miles away. He couldn't imagine the pain Malfoy must be in, to be forced to do something he loved so much and be caught in a struggle between loving it and hating it.

He knew he had to free Malfoy from the curse somehow.

**OoOoO**

Night found Harry under the invisibility cloak once again, as he followed Malfoy to the golden pavilion. Though Harry still found the place beautiful even after his third time there, he could understand why Malfoy could no longer appreciate the beauty of the place. It did get boring, after a while, tracing the same route every day, and Harry could imagine how a few months of passing through the same path would make Malfoy not even give his surroundings a second glance as he walked.

This time, as Harry settled himself down in his usual corner of the pavilion, the performers all wore red. The men wore coats the colour of blood, while the women wore long, frilly gowns that were the colour of the deepest ruby. As usual, Malfoy sat at the front near the conductor, and Harry found his eyes closing in anticipation of the music.

The music started off with a very sinister mood, the low chimes of the marimbas echoing eerily in the silence of the pavilion. The strings joined in with high, soft notes, adding to the creepy effect of the music, and Harry felt goosebumps rise along his skin. If Voldemort had had a theme song, Harry was sure this would have been it.

The music slowly got louder and louder, until it nearly deafened Harry, and then the mood of the music changed abruptly with the crash of a cymbal. Suddenly, discordant notes shrieked their displeasure straight into Harry's ears, and the loud pounding of drums added to the rage that swirled around the music. Harry recalled all the times the Dursleys had mistreated him, all the times Malfoy or Snape had antagonised him, all the times he had been kept in the dark, all the times his own folly and impatience had caused someone to die, and he felt his rage grow all of a sudden. All the anger, at himself, at others, he had felt over the last few years came rushing out, mirrored by the anger of the music and the angry red of the performers' clothes.

He listened as the music changed once again, and he knew without a doubt that it now spoke of a battle. The beat of the drums created a sort of war chant, and the clash of cymbals mirrored the sounds of swords clashing in the battlefield. That shriek of the violins was the sound of someone's last scream, and the bellow of the brass section was the bellow of the war horn as it called for its people to make their final stand against the enemy. The red of the performers' clothes created the backdrop of the battle, all the blood staining the ground, and Harry was reminded of the battle he had just fought a few months ago. That battle hadn't been fought using swords, and there had been no war drums nor horns during their battle, but the heat of the battle of Hogwarts was everywhere in the music.

Harry didn't sleep that night, too caught up in memories of the battle and the fierce energy of the music to be able to do so, and he watched and listened as the orchestra played on and on, until they stopped when the conductor lowered his baton. Harry checked his watch, and blinked in surprise. It had already been five hours since he had come here, and now he knew without a doubt that Malfoy had been forced to play non-stop every single night since he arrived.

As he followed Malfoy back to Hogwarts, he observed him discreetly, and was saddened to see how frail and tired Malfoy looked. The life and passion Malfoy used to have was gone, replaced by this exhaustion, and Harry found that he couldn't stand the thought of the curse destroying Malfoy's passion like that.

That must have been the reason for his apparent madness as they stepped back into Hogwarts. Ripping off the cloak, he grabbed Malfoy's shoulders and spun him around.

Harry had never seen such a look in Malfoy's eyes, not even after the war ended. His eyes held fear, exhaustion, confusion, relief, and most of all, hope. It stunned Harry for a few minutes, which was why he couldn't answer immediately when Malfoy's mouth opened to call his name hesitantly.

"Potter?"

Harry smiled at him. "Yep, it's me."

"But...how?" Malfoy asked, the confusion still clear in his voice.

"I followed you. I've been following you to the pavilion for the past few nights, though I've been following you to find out where you were going for much longer than that." Harry replied gently, as if talking to a small frightened animal.

"I..." Malfoy looked as though he were about to start yelling at Harry, but he covered his face with his hands and lowered his head. It was only until Malfoy started shaking with silent sobs that Harry realised he was crying.

"Hey, it's okay now. Everything's going to be all right. I know of the curse now, and so does Hermione. We'll help you break it." Harry patted Malfoy's back awkwardly, unsure of what to do with a sobbing Malfoy. After all, the last time he had seen Malfoy crying hadn't gone too well.

"I'd...I'd never thought I'd be...be free, I...I didn't think that...that anyone even...even _cared_ enough to...to find out..." Malfoy sobbed, and Harry's heart broke despite himself. The person who had placed the curse on Malfoy had been clever. He had known that after the war, Malfoy would have no friends left at Hogwarts, no one left to notice and care if something was wrong with him, and so he had placed a curse on Malfoy which could never be broken unless someone cared enough to find out what was happening to him.

Good for Malfoy that Harry's obsession with him hadn't died together with the war, then.

He walked towards Malfoy and gave him an awkward hug, and Malfoy surprised him by throwing his arms around Harry, crying into his shoulder. He continued to pat Malfoy on the back and whisper words of comfort to him, until Malfoy managed to calm down a bit and sat away from Harry.

"Thanks, Potter." He said stiffly, and Harry could see that he was trying not to cry again.

"No worries. Now that I know about the curse, can you tell me how to break it?" Harry asked.

To his horror, Malfoy's bottom lip trembled, and a tear fell down his face. Merlin, Harry really couldn't deal with Malfoy crying twice in a night.

"I can't tell you anything you don't already know. That's part of the curse. So even though you know about it, it's complete...completely use...useless." Malfoy took a deep breath to steady himself, the continued talking. "You still don't know how to break the curse, and I can't tell you, so I'll never be free for the rest of my life." He finished miserably.

"You underestimate me, Malfoy. I can and I will find a way to free you from the curse. Even if I can't, we have Hermione. She's guaranteed to be able to find a way out of this. By this time next week, you'll be free. I promise." Harry said desperately.

Malfoy's lips turned up in a small but hopeful smile.

**OoOoO**

A few days later, Hermione came rushing into the common room, a thick book in her arm.

"Whoa, slow down!" Harry said, holding an arm out to steady her as she almost tripped over a rug.

"I've found it, Harry! I've found out how to break the curse!" Hermione said excitedly.

"How?" Harry asked, starting to smile. He couldn't wait until Draco heard the good news.

For he was Draco now: how could he be Malfoy any more, when Harry had held him while he cried?

"There are two possible ways of ending the spell. The first is to get the person who cast the spell to relent and remove the curse. The second is to simply break the wand of the person who cursed Malfoy." Hermione explained excitedly.

Harry felt his excitement dampen. "We don't even know who cursed Draco! And I hardly think that the person will be willing to let Draco off."

"Oh Harry, the person who cursed him has to be inside the pavilion together with him! That's part of the spell! I'm not entirely sure how the spell works, but it seems like while Malfoy is physically present in the pavilion, only the conscience of the person, together with his or her physical wand, visits the place each night. This is because the wand must be there to keep up the curse, and only the person's conscience needs to be there to protect it." Hermione explained.

"So...all I have to do is to find out who the person who cursed Malfoy is, and then break his wand?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "Bear in mind that the attacker would probably want to keep his wand close to him, and that it will be disguised as something else, something wand-shaped, and probably made of the same material. It would be too easy to break the curse if the wand was easy to find and break."

"What? It could be anything! It could be any of the bows, or the music stands, or the instruments...maybe it's Draco's bow...Hermione, can't you come with me to break the curse?" Harry whined.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but from the way you describe it, the portal opens because it responds to Malfoy's magical signature. I don't think it's possible for two of us to be able to fit into the portal right after Malfoy. There just isn't enough time. I'm sure you'll be able to do it, though!" She smiled encouragingly.

"If you say so." Harry rubbed at his temples and sighed.

Hermione's smile turned mischievous. "So. Draco, huh?" She asked lightly.

Harry threw a pillow at her in response.

**OoOoO**

The next night, Harry followed Draco under the cloak again. He knew that Draco knew he was there; he could tell from the small smile on Draco's lips as he entered the forest. However, they had decided this was for the best, as they didn't want Draco's attacker to see Harry and know that someone knew of the curse.

What Draco didn't know was that this would be the very last time he would enter the woods. Harry hoped to destroy the wand and free Draco by the time the night ended, but he hadn't wanted to tell Draco for fear that he would fail and raise Draco's hopes for nothing.

Silently, Harry crept through the woods and the field behind Draco just as he did every night, sitting in the boat as Draco rowed across the lake and stepping onto the golden pavilion for the last time. As soon as he set foot on the ground, however, he did not creep to his usual corner, but instead followed Draco until he stood directly in front of the conductor, facing the orchestra. He needed to keep a lookout for anything that could possibly be the wand, and he couldn't do that with his limited view of the orchestra from his usual corner.

This time, the members of the orchestra were dressed in blue. The men wore coats that were a soft, pale blue, while the women wore simple dresses that were as blue as lake surrounding the pavilion. As Harry watched, the conductor raised his baton, and the orchestra began to play.

The music was soft, just like the colour of the gowns the women wore. The orchestra played a long, quiet note, while an oboe played its quiet solo, the notes calm and gentle. It was almost like a lullaby, and Harry couldn't help wondering if his mother had sang him lullabies like that when he was young. Maybe he would have gotten a chance to find out if she had lived.

Harry shook himself hard. He was here to free Draco, not to daydream about things that would never happen. He had to make sure he got it right on the first try and snapped the correct object, for he would reveal himself once he broke the wand, and Draco might never be free if Harry revealed himself and snapped the wrong object. He scanned the orchestra, trying to figure out which object was the wand, but it was hard to when the melody kept coaxing his eyes shut...

Harry jerked awake with a soft gasp, then quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard him. No one had, because his gasp had been hidden by the scrape of chairs against the floor of the pavilion as everyone stood up. Harry groaned quietly. He had missed his chance to look for the wand and Draco's attacker by falling asleep.

Quickly, he scanned the crowds. Hermione had said something about wand-shaped objects...obviously, the larger instruments such as the drums, brasses and double basses were out. The flutes? Harry shook his head. They weren't even made of the right material. His initial theory that the wand could be one of the bows of the strings instruments came back to him, and he scanned the crowd, wondering which bow it was. Harry had started to move towards a random bow, hoping that the faceless violinist it belonged to was Draco's attacker, when he suddenly remembered that the attacker would be here together with the wand, and that he would probably want to keep the wand close. This meant that he could simply look for the attacker and try to find the wand from there, instead of simply trying to guess which object was the wand.

Harry scanned the crowds again, looking for anyone who could possibly be the person who had cursed Draco. He frowned as he looked through the members of the orchestra, realising that each person looked the exactly the same. They were probably just products of the spell, not a real person who could have cursed Draco. With a sigh he turned to look at Draco, only to freeze as he saw someone he had left out.

The conductor stood on his podium, continuing to watch the orchestra as they packed up. He turned to observe the strings section, giving Draco a small smirk, and Harry gasped as realisation hit him. He couldn't believe he had forgotten that, on the very first night he was here, he had already noticed that the conductor looked different from the rest of the orchestra, less clone-like and more _real. _Quickly, he glanced at the conductor's hands, and sure enough, his left hand clasped his baton.

His _wand._

Harry shed the invisibility cloak, sprinting towards the conductor's podium. The conductor barely had time to register his shock before Harry was grabbing his baton and snapping it into two.

Chaos seemed to break out after that. A loud moaning noise filled the air, and the pavilion started shaking. In the distance, Harry swore he could see the lake crumble into nothing, and the instruments around them vanished into thin air, the players folding in on themselves like paper. He turned to look at Draco in shock.

Draco just stood there, left hand clutching his instrument and right hand holding his bow, and as the pavilion gave another rumble Harry realised what was happening.

"The place is collapsing around us! We have to go!" Harry yelled at Draco, pulling at his arm as he rushed towards the boat.

Draco seemed to be in shock, and he clutched his instrument tightly to him as Harry rowed across the lake. Once they reached the shore, they ran as fast as they could, as the lake crumbled into nothing behind them, the golden pavilion shattering to pieces, and the grass in the field started to rise up into the air, blade by blade. They ran as the sky started to fall, leaving behind a horrible nothingness, and the woods started to tremble, the trees falling to the ground with horrible metallic clangs. Harry watched as the bird he saw on the first day reappeared in front of him, shrieked loudly, and burst into pieces, the blood red of its body turning into literal blood that dripped onto the ground in front of him. Harry felt the bile rise up in his throat, but he knew he couldn't stop now, not if he wanted to live, if he wanted both of them to live.

They ran through the portal to the Entrance Hall just as the world behind them gave a final shudder and collapsed.

**OoOoO**

Harry collapsed onto the bench at the Gryffindor table, panting heavily, and he felt rather than saw Draco plonk himself beside him. They sat in silence for a while, both trying to catch their breaths.

Looking at Draco, Harry realised that he was still clutching his instrument to him, and he laughed despite what had just happened. "You really love that violin, huh, Draco?" He chuckled.

Draco lifted his head in what was presumably a haughty manner, an action ruined by the fact that he was sweating and panting heavily. "It's a viola, Potter, not a violin, though I don't expect a plebeian like you to understand." He said in between breaths.

They sat in silence for a while more, and this time Draco was the one who broke the silence. "Thanks, Pot-Harry. I'd honestly never thought I'd be free, and I refused to give myself hope even when I found out that you knew. I'd been trapped in this curse for so long, without anyone noticing, and I just thought-" Draco broke off, his breath catching, and shook his head wildly. Harry could see the tears in his eyes that threatened to fall, the way his shoulders shook as if trying to suppress tears, and he placed his hands gently over Draco's trembling ones.

"Hey, it's fine now. You're free at last." He said gently, and Draco nodded, a tear falling down his face.

"Yes, I suppose I am." He whispered.

They sat like that for a while more, Harry's hands on Draco's, and Harry decided it would be a good time to ask Draco a question he had been thinking about.

"Hey, Draco?"

"Yes?" Draco turned his head to look Harry directly in the eye.

"Are you...do you still like playing your viola?" Harry asked.

Draco's eyes softened. "I might have been forced to play it non-stop for the past few months, but I could never hate it, Harry. The person who cursed me underestimated the love and passion I have for music. They thought they could take it away, but the truth is that they can't. No matter what they do to me, they can never make me hate my viola or music."

Harry nodded in understanding. "In that case...would you play for me some time, Draco? You play really well." He asked earnestly.

Draco turned to him, and Harry got a glimpse of the smile Draco usually reserved for his beloved viola. "Sure, Harry. Anytime."

**OoOoO**

Harry sat on a comfortable armchair in the Room of Requirement, listening as Draco gave a performance on his viola. He smiled at how happy and healthy Draco looked now, two months after he was freed from the curse. The person who cursed Draco had been caught easily since he was he was wandless, and he had been put into Azkaban for the illegal curse he had used on Draco. Despite what Draco had said about not hating his instrument, he had still been slightly reluctant to play for long periods of time for a while after the incident, and he had been gaining his confidence slowly over the last two months.

Now, though, he was finally confident enough to perform, and Harry smiled at the joyful expression on his face. Seeing Draco like that, he knew, without a doubt, that Draco was absolutely in love with his instrument, and it was great to finally see Draco so happy after he had gone through so much pain.

The notes leapt energetically around the room, soaring high into the sky before swooping back down to the ground, and Harry felt his heart leap and soar together with the melody. He smiled as Draco lowered his viola, and clapped and cheered as loudly as he could together with the rest.

"Bravo, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, walking forward to slap Draco on the back.

"I never knew you could play like that!" Hermione added.

Draco smiled, but he only looked at Harry. His silver eyes caught Harry's own almost immediately, and Harry smiled at him. "Well done, Draco." He said warmly, and he saw how Draco's eyes lit up and how his eyes brightened when he said that.

"Thanks, Harry. For everything." Draco said, and Harry could feel his own smile brighten at the words.

Together, they left the Room of Requirement, Ron and Ginny walking in front, bickering about who would win the next World Cup, while Luna, Neville and Hermione walked more slowly behind them. Harry and Draco lagged behind, choosing to stroll behind the rest at a more leisurely pace.

"I meant what I said just now, you know. Thank you, Harry. You saved my life during the war, then you freed me from the curse, and now you've given me friends. You've ensured that I'm no longer alone." Draco said, turning to smile at Harry again.

Harry grasped his hand. "You'll never be alone again, Draco. You have us now. You have me now."

They continued walking, hand in hand, Draco's viola in the black oblong case slung across his back.

"Besides, you were never really alone, you know. You had your music."

_Fin_


End file.
